


To Cure a Despair-Fueled Heart

by Starchaic



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, Jabberwock Island (Dangan Ronpa), M/M, Multi, Post-Canon, Recovery, also all the ships besides komahina are gonna be implied, also yeah im tagging komanamihina cuz im a sad bitch, anyways thanks for letting me post cringe on the tl <3, not discussed in any detail, this is just for fun i am just vibing in this house tonight, this takes place after SDR2 and before DR3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:41:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27599737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starchaic/pseuds/Starchaic
Summary: Makoto Naegi still believed in the Remnants of Despair; so much so that, when the Neo World Program actually works, he keeps battling to help them heal from their traumas.Hajime Hinata still feels so out of place; so much so that, while battling with his own mind in order to attempt to feel something again, he can't bring himself to believe that his classmates' despair is over.
Relationships: Asahina Aoi & Naegi Makoto, Asahina Aoi/Ogami Sakura, Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito, Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito/Nanami Chiaki, Hinata Hajime/Nanami Chiaki, Kirigiri Kyoko & Naegi Makoto, Naegi Makoto & Everyone
Comments: 1
Kudos: 27





	To Cure a Despair-Fueled Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thanks chesh for giving me the courage to post this ily](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=thanks+chesh+for+giving+me+the+courage+to+post+this+ily).



There were no fireworks for Makoto Naegi. 

No blaze of glory, no parades, no shouted congratulations. Many deem him a hero, but he tries not to think about it too hard. He’s never liked thinking about himself or his accomplishments much. After all, why think about what’s been done when there’s so much left to do, right?

But tonight, Makoto Naegi can’t sleep. And not sleeping brings...

Well, actually, hold on a second; that’s really an understatement if he’s being honest with himself. Makoto hardly ever actually  _ sleeps _ . Most of the time his version of ‘resting’ consists of bouncing between night terrors and repeatedly flipping the pillow over, trying to keep his cold sweat from bothering himself.

But tonight… Tonight is different.

Because mere hours ago, the Despairs that he had worked tirelessly to help rehabilitate using the Neo World Program finally awoke from their stasis. The machines stopped beeping and whirring, he approached the capsule holding the other Ultimate Hope (his own supposed counterpart, according to the murmurs he’s heard around the office), and waited, with bated breath, for the end of this long experiment to come to pass. 

There were no fireworks for Makoto Naegi. Not when he locked hands carefully with Kamakura– wait, no, Hinata, his name is  _ Hinata _ – and pulled him from the capsule. Not when he watched the man who was previously a leader of the Despairs settle himself into a waiting chair nearby. Not when he half-dragged several other ex-Despairs out of their own stasis capsules. And certainly not when his crew finally got the okay to come onto the scene, providing aid, food, and water to those of the ex-Despairs who’s bodies hadn’t taken to the treatment as well as others. 

(He probably needs to stop calling them ‘ex-Despairs’, he notes to himself. Class 77 is a fine title as is. Best not to focus on their recent… actions, if possible.)

No, there were no fireworks for Makoto Naegi today. No call for celebration, no sudden breaking of the tension. Just tirelessly waiting, watching, talking, explaining, and  _ hoping _ for the entire situation to finally,  _ finally  _ work out in his favor.

And it had. And, several hours of checking the progress on the still-sleeping ex-Despairs (and settling the conscious ones into their new temporary living quarters) later, Makoto was saddled with a bone-deep exhaustion. Sleeping is the only thing that sounds satisfying at this point. 

But he just…  _ can’t _ . 

He doesn’t give himself the chance to think about why. Instead, he drags himself out of bed, slaps his cheeks a few times to wake himself up, and slides on his slippers. His desk is waiting for him, just barely a few steps away, and he decidedly places down his metallic laptop on the wooden surface before he can think to do otherwise.

Typing out what he wants to say to his superiors about the project is the easy part, honestly. People talk about how hard finding the right words is, but for Makoto? For Makoto, the words seem to flow naturally, gushing and unstoppable, like a mighty river. Thinking on his feet is something he’s gotten used to, nowadays. Has been for a while now, actually. Every time him and Kiri manage to get a minute together alone, she always seems to mention it.

He smiles, briefly. And then the typing resumes.

He has his meeting with the Future Foundation council members a mere four days from now. This has to be said, has to be written down and signed, has to be delivered directly to the members of the board by his own hand. Whether or not he actually gets the chance to read it is one thing, but…

But tonight, he lets the thoughts rain down onto that blank canvas of his screen, and feels his mind relax minutely at the release.

It’s hard, even for him. Explaining just how much faith– how much  _ hope _ – he was putting into the Despairs was hard enough as is, but explaining it to the ruthless higher management at the Future Foundation…

Well, he can think about that later. The laptop lid closes with a gentle click, and Makoto rises from his chair, thoroughly drained of the sudden inspiration. His mind is quieter now, even if there still is a buzz in the back of his thoughts yelling for his attention, worry,  _ fear _ . 

That can wait for tomorrow. Or the next day. Or… as soon as the ex-Despairs– Class 77– are all out of the Neo World Program, and rehabilitating the best they can.

It all can wait. The hope of those he’s tried so hard to save is more than important enough.

//

There are no tears shed for Izuru Kamakura–  _ Hajime Hinata _ – when he first exits the Neo World Program. All that there is is a hand, a gentle smile, and a team of people in suits tucked behind a glass wall at the other end of the room. (A memory of before, when he was first rebirthed, tickles at the back of his mind at the sight.)

There is Makoto Naegi. He recognizes him immediately, seeing as how he was, quite literally, forced out of the depths of Junko Enoshima’s Despair by him merely a half hour ago. 

_ Junko Enoshima… _

Now that all of his memories are his own again– both Hajime and Izuru’s– that name leaves an acrid taste in the back of his throat. Though he can’t actually recall  _ why _ he feels that way. Everything is far too muddy, far too blurred and blended together, to actually comprehend those…

His eyes shoot wide, for a moment. 

Those…  _ Feelings.  _

Izuru– Hajime– whatever his name is supposed to be now...

He feels something. And even though it’s total disgust for a woman he hardly even remembers meeting, it’s still  _ something. _

Makoto Naegi talks with him for a long while, as he raises himself from the capsule he’s spent the last weeks in. And while the man’s gentle, kind,  _ hopeful  _ voice washes over Hajime, he feels something else, for a moment.

A single tear slides down his cheek, unknown to every single one of the onlookers, and even to Hajime himself. He can’t smile, can’t even make an expression, but that feeling blossoms in his chest, for just a single second. 

But the tear descends to his chin, past his cheekbone and the curve of his jaw, nonetheless.

// 

Morning yawns through the blinds of his temporary office-dormitory room. Every bone in his back aches with dull, worried pain. He can barely bring himself to tap the alarm on his phone into silence, with how heavy his entire body is…

And then, there’s a loud metal rapping at his door, and he’s scrambling upright.

“Come- Come in!” His voice has a slightly deeper, raspy quality to it that he smiles at. But he quickly pockets that reaction away in favor of making himself look as decent as possible. Which, considering he’s currently wearing an oversized tshirt and tiny sports shorts as pajamas, is quite a feat–

But his scrambling for appropriate-ness is quickly sidelined when he actually catches sight of who’s come to wake him up this morning. As soon as those deep, calculating, lavender eyes hit him, he’s stopped dead in his tracks.

“Kiri!” escapes from his lips, and before he can think better of it, he’s already half-buried himself in her tall, thin frame. He feels her giggle through the embrace, and pulls back, embarrassed, when he realizes how loud he had shouted.

“Sorry, sorry– I just… it feels like we hardly got to see each other yesterday, y’know?”

She pauses, looking him up and down for a second. Why does it feel like he’s being… analyzed? Well, he kinda feels that way often around Kiri, anyhow. It’s probably fine.

Her gaze lands back on his face, and she smirks. “Well, saving the ex-despairs’ asses was a bit more important than chit chat, Naegi. Though,” she leans against the now-closed door’s frame, “I do have to admit, we need to have a day out, sometime soon.” 

“Oh my god, I’m so glad to hear that Kiri. Hey, I was starting to think you were getting sick of me!” he jokes. A mild giggle escapes from Kiri’s lips. He feels himself grin ear to ear at that, but it falls as soon as Kiri’s own smirk fades into a frown. He winces, realizing how that probably sounded to her, considering the quickly approaching meeting they both have with the council members. He knows deep down that she probably feels just as guilty as him about it. Even if it’s for a completely different reason...

“Naegi… You do realize why we can’t be vocal about my participation in the Neo World Program, right? If I could, I would’ve been here from the start, but–”  
  
“Kyoko,” he interrupts, causing her eyes to flit wide for a moment, “I get it. I promise, your position here is important, too. And hey, we both know Togami would kill me if I ended up being the reason the ‘only other sane member of this foundation’ got fired, right?”

He tries to lightly joke, using air quotes around the final part of that statement, but Kiri’s responding smile doesn’t quite meet her eyes. His hand finds its way to her shoulder in a heartbeat.

“Hey– I promise, Kiri.” He smiles up at her, and her own grin finally comes back. 

And with that, she turns to make her leave. They both already know exactly where and when they will meet up again later, and which ex-Despairs they will be seeing first. No need to exhaust their brief preparation time on chit chat, he reminds himself.

Once dressed in his foundation uniform jacket, Makoto quickly sneaks a coffee from the vending machine down the hall. Cup in hand and files pressed under his arm, he makes his way to the office outside of the hospital wing-turned-rehabilitation-suite. 

No one else is here yet, not even Kiri or Hina. Togami explained yesterday (as soon as they were out of the Neo World Program) how he wouldn’t be able to attend for a day or so, so he’s really not expecting him to show up, anyhow...

But, thanks to the deafening silence of the office, Makoto can’t help but begin to think.

//

Izuru Kamakura wakes up in a body made of lead. 

At first, the sensation has him wincing, vying for his body to allow himself to dive back into slumber. But then…

He remembers exactly where he is.

Izuru slowly allows himself to sit up in the hospital bed. A slick sliver of light is peeking through the curtains to his left, and a heart monitor is beeping away at his right. He stares down at the pulse detector around his finger.

The tiny machine looks almost like a clothespin, clamped over his fingertip. The plastic is smooth and cool against his touch, repelling the heat of his skin like cold glass. 

Numb. No sense of feeling, fleeting or otherwise.

He gently tears the equipment off of his hand, taking out the IV needle that was poked into his wrist in the same moment. Red liquid spits out almost immediately, and he watches, sluggish, as it begins dripping down his arm. After a moment's pause, he presses his thumb against the remaining hole, keeping the blood from spilling out.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

He raises his one leg up into a crouch instinctively, and is about to drape his arm across it, when–

He slips his hand into his pocket. He doesn’t expect anything to be there, when he does, but his finger brushes against something small, slightly-sharp and plastic. He pulls it out of the pocket, and brings it up towards his face in order to study the anomaly.

It’s a tiny hairpin, styled in 8-bit pixels and with a spaceship design on the front. The clip on the back is sleek and black, and he thumbs the seam of the metal. He doesn’t remember why or how this got here, until–

…

Everything hits him at once.

Hajime Hinata gasps for air, for a quiet moment. He curls in on himself, panting, and finds his fingers winding their way through his hair–

Except, it’s different. Hajime– Izuru–  _ his  _ hair bunches up beneath his fingers in long, winding strands. It feels unkempt, yet soft, as if it had been untouched both by himself and the forces of nature for a long time. He lets go, for a moment, and slowly picks up one clump in order to bring it around into his field of view.

Black, long tendrils stare back at him.

Hajime doesn’t cry at that sudden realization. He doesn’t laugh, or choke, or wheeze, or do much of anything.

He simply stares, deadly still.

Because he remembers, and it’s oh so painful. The feeling of holding Nanami’s hands in the simulation as she drifted apart from him shot through his brain. The sensation of warm, sticky blood smudging on his fingers. The wetness on his cheeks from bubbling, strange tears. A smile still etched into her face, even as she–

…

His mind stops, and he clasps his hands around his head once more, squeezing, driving his nails into the skin until he can feel the pressure building.

Was it too much, or too little? His chest feels hollow. His head is like a mess of barbed wire, piercing him every time he tries to detangle it. But the heavy, almost  _ peaceful  _ blankness that he knows could settle over his mind at any instant leads to just a bit of relief. He wants it to be quiet, he wants it to be easy, he wants to know how to fix this, he wants his mind to stop it stop it  _ stop it _ –

And then? It does.

And he doesn’t feel…  _ anything.  _

A single thought creeps into his mind, purposefully drowning out any of the blossoming emotions nestled in his chest. A venomous snarl appears on his face.

“How  _ boring _ .”


End file.
